The Golden-Eyed Hathaway: Chapter One-Kenna's Nightmare
by WhoSaysYouOnlyLiveOnce
Summary: Kenna Hathaway is the older sister of Rose Hathaway, Dhampir Guardian to Lissa Dragomir. She is lesser known than her younger sibling because when Kenna was eighteen, recently made a Guardian and when Rose was nine, she was bitten by the leader of a Strigoi clan. Kenna has never been seen or heard from again. This is her story. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR THE CHARACTERS I ADD


I. Kenna's Nightmare

They're gone.

For one blissful moment I have the house all to myself, even if it will only last until dawn. The glowing clock on the nightstand shows 2:36, a mere three hours left. The leader will have them working hard, and maybe they will be too full and stupid to notice anything different about me.

I move quickly up the stairs, careful without needing to be of the creaking stair at the very top, and shove open the door to Ezechiel's room. As per usual it is a messy pigsty, but right on the bureau is what I came in here for. His collection of books. I grab a handful, noting he's accumulated more and won't notice, and plod quickly to my room. I dump the books on my bed and briefly feel the little flutter of anxiety. It is not unusual for a Strigoi to read, but I am stealing books from our very old and very powerful leader. Albeit ones he has read and will never touch again, but if he knew, it could very well be the end for me. As it is I am most certain he suspects something is wrong with me, not bad for eleven years in the same group, but I cannot let him know that I never changed.

Most Strigoi are cruel and heartless, cold-blooded killers who enjoy the hunt, but for some reason my demeanor never changed. Even my eyes have stayed the golden-brown color of my Dhampir past. Ezechiel commented a few times on my eyes but after baring my teeth and snarling out words I never would have even _thought_ about before let alone said seemed to lock the doubts away. But now my façade is cracking at the edges, hesitating before biting and worrying about a comrade, and Ezechiel is growing suspicious. I have worked harder than ever to lock it down, and I think I have improved, so now all I have are the days I get put on sentry duty to be _me._ Three hours to expose my humanity to peeling walls and creaking floorboards.

I sit down on my faded once-red bedspread and pick up a random book, running my cold fingers over the glossy title, and think of my sister. Rose had been nine years old when I was turned, a fatal blow to a child who didn't even have her mother and no one knew who her father was. She only had me and guilt racks my body every day when I try in vain to "sleep", closing my eyes and summoning dreams of yesteryear. All too often I imagine what might have happened had I seen Morgana, my creator, in time. If I had been faster plunging the stake in, keeping my fragile neck away from her biting fangs. If I had called for Alberta, our lead Guardian, before going after the group of rogue Strigoi. If Rose hadn't called my name at the wrong second.

_Stupid, you know Rose didn't call. You know it was your imagination, hoping she wasn't close by. You _know_ she was still safe in class but you heard her voice all the same. And now look at what has happened. _

The voice in my head, the one I hear more frequently lately, is the one that sounds like our mother Janine Hathaway. I knew our mom better than Rose did, and yet I still did not feel much love from her. Janine was always a cold Guardian, better suited for the job I suppose, but even her children could not spark any sort of motherly connection with her. I took it with a grain of salt but Rose hated her for abandoning her. I wonder, sometimes, if she still does. I would assume so.

I just open the stiff front cover when I hear voices and footsteps out on the walk. The noises are still a couple hundred yards off, but I look curiously at the clock next to my bed.

5:15.

Already in a near panic I stuff the books haphazardly underneath my bed and sprint down the stairs, wiping dust off my palms along my jeans-clad hips. I hop onto the sofa, my ears pricked for the sound of the door opening. By the time they get that far my heart has slowed considerably and my hyperventilating has calmed enough for me to look alert but bored senseless.

Ezechiel comes through first, holding a handful of something tightly in his palm. Morgana and Eve come bustling through next, eyes shining and lips still ruby-colored from their dinner. They are followed by the other assortment of Strigoi, but three near the back look new. The girl's eyes roam the house, fearful but excited, her tawny skin blazing under the florescent lighting. The two boys stay close together, mirroring each other. A flash of surprise tingles my bones as I realize they are twins, both fair-haired and light-skinned. They seem anxious as Stephanie, a thousand years old and only 5'2", leads them and the girl to their rooms.

Ezechiel stops by me, dropping two rings and a silver necklace onto the arm of the sofa. The necklace is ordinary, mundane to the last detail since he always brings me a necklace, but the rings halt my breath. One is a beautiful diamond set in a small setting, an engagement ring of sorts. The other is a smooth, silver wedding band, approximately the size of my ring finger. I stare fixedly at them, wanting them to be a figment or to have some other meaning.

Ezechiel told me eleven years ago that if a Strigoi gets you a wedding band and/or an engagement ring then that means said vampire wants to marry you and bond you to him. It's a tricky process he said, when the minds connect and floods of emotions and sensory adjustments pour into your mind and vice versa. Some vampires can't hold up to it and they collapse, instantly dead. Some lose any humanity left and is replaced with a feral, animalistic hunger unrivaled to Strigoi behavior. Still others are perfectly fine and live out eternity with their husband or wife.

I look up into Ezechiel's eyes, a timid question in mine, and he jerks his head in a yes form before stalking away to deal with the newcomers. I breathe a sigh of relief, now having a few days to ponder over his proposition.

I nonchalantly stroll up the stairs, noticing everyone else heading to their rooms after a long night of feeding, and close my door gently as I lay down in bed. I settle my hands gently over my eyes, rubbing until I see black spots dancing on my eyelids. I keep them closed after, watching the spots continue their routine on my grimy cream ceiling. I follow them with my gaze, watching as they hop into and out of my field of vision until I hear a low knock on my door. I give a grunt of acknowledgment and Ezechiel steps into the doorway, leaning casually on the frame.

"Ezechiel. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He smiles, cold and ruthless, but a smile nonetheless. "While I always enjoy your sense of humor, I wanted to speak with you. About the rings."

I still in my place, watching as he slowly walks over to my bed and sits gently on the edge by my hip, his long fingers inches away. "I know you are probably shocked by the rings."

"I was, but I had a feeling since all the other girls complain about me getting all of your attention, lately. They're miffed they don't get necklaces and bracelets from you." I smile, letting a little warmth leak through while trying to make it look forced.

"You were always my favorite, yes. And because you are so powerful at such a young age, I believe we will make a great team. Maybe even keep expanding our clan to outnumber any others in the city." A greedy gleam stole into his eyes. It has always been his dream to overpower the smaller clans in Seattle.

A pang of unease steals into my heart. Ezechiel always makes me nervous and I can feel his bloodlust radiating out of him like a heat wave.

Like a true Strigoi.

Unlike me.


End file.
